Evan jammed his arms beneath Margie and dug his fingers into her back. Raj Mathur. He slipped the hooks free and peeled the cups aside. He wanted her again. Related Interests Copyright Infringement Copyright. She kept her eyes on the screen. Evan groaned as she traced his entrance and he angled his hips to give her the best access.

All my worries gathered in a scrum and elbowed for attention. Fucking Amber. My fucking sister whom I fucking loved. When she was mad at him it dropped to ten percent, soared to ninety-nine whenever they reconciled. Same temper, same lousy taste in men; a too- young mother prone to impulsive, dramatic mistakes. Our mom had worked two jobs and treated dating like the night shift.

Treated dating like playing the lottery, always imagining, This guy will be the one to lift me out of this shithole. After I shut off the engine, I held the steering wheel and counted my breaths, waiting for my heart to slow, for those corset laces to go slack.

They never did. I pocketed my keys and stepped into the cool, damp morning air. There was birdsong all around and the grounds smelled of spring, like the final weeks of school before the freedom of summer. I sucked it in, knowing my first day would be busy, and that I might not get outside again until the end of my twelve-hour shift. My flats crunched across the gravel lot, to the door labeled Staff Entrance.

I pushed the zero key on a bank of buttons. He led me down a short hall and into a cramped break room with a kitchenette, tidy but cast in a sickly glow by the fluorescent bulbs. Dennis looked about fifty, with gold- rimmed glasses and a professorial goatee, and overgrown salt-and-pepper hair. He wore scrubs, pale blue, and boat shoes. He seemed at once kind and exhausted, defeated and determined, with one of those expressive, guileless faces that told you everything he was feeling.

When I waved it away he added a packet of sugar and took a sip. He smiled. He paused to check a roster of names listed on a large whiteboard beside the door. The nurses run this ward. But their offices are all here on Starling One. Dennis and I had spoken a few times already. Dennis had been present, if only as a kind voice coming through a conference line.

What shocking things had he seen in all that time? What shocks were in store for me? My invisible corset gave a mean squeeze. Do you smoke? Everyone comes in, writes their name in the appropriate slot so we know what their duty is for the day.

Dennis told me to write nurse shadow in the duties column, so I did, picturing myself as a mysterious Batman-like figure in a dark gray catsuit, black cape, stethoscope glinting in the moonlight. Nurse Shadow. Yellow for the nurses and techs, green for the orderlies, blue for senior staff and managerial scum like me. Plus the classic white coats for the doctors and therapists.

The residents in this ward wear gray. The residents in other programs are allowed to wear their own clothes, but at Starling we keep a dress code.

The thief was welcome to it. I changed quickly and met Dennis back in the hall.

We hiked up two flights, then banged a left down an echoing corridor. Ditto in the evenings. Usually takes five minutes or less. Then at seven we start waking the residents. The station looked onto a plain room with beige couches and chairs, two big windows; a high-ceilinged space lit equally with overhead bulbs and sunshine, as square and adequate and inoffensive as a Saltine. There was a patient dressed in the requisite gray in the lounge, leaning a hip on the deep windowsill with his large arms crossed over his equally large chest.

His head was shaved to brown stubble, and even from twenty feet away I could make out the scar running from beneath his ear down his neck. More an inmate than a patient, he seemed to me, fresh from a brawl in the exercise yard. Jesus, what on earth have I signed up for? Salary, I reminded myself. It primarily housed adults who were enrolled in or had completed programs at Larkhaven, a stepping-stone toward truly independent living.

Dennis laughed, freeing a clipboard from a hook on the wall. So good we let him wear what he likes. And he likes gray, to keep himself on par with the patients. It locked behind us, the sound heavy and hard and confident.

He cocked an eyebrow at Evan. He crossed his arms over his chest looking every bit the bouncer. He looked different too. Paul grinned. All of the above. This is our last big hurrah. Good for you. Cara McKenna Paul shrugged. Evan cleared his throat.

Gotten taken home by a couple before? Corrupted some innocent straight boy? Just let me know if I should be doing something to put you kids at ease.

He squinted up at the ceiling. Evan thought. Paul was probably only a couple years older than they were. That point in the fantasy usually banished all logistical concerns. Who am I allowed to touch? Am I the hired help taking orders or do you want me running this show? Margie pursed her lips. Can we decide in the moment? Dirty Thirty Paul drained his bottle and set it on the table. The air had grown thick and damp.

She caught Evan casting a nervous glance back around the block. I always assumed you were a bike messenger. Cube rat. They reached the house and Margie fished for keys in her purse. The guy who runs it now is a business douche. Margie felt giddy. That level of adulthood could wait another couple years. Built like who-knew-what.

She pointed him in the right direction then walked over to where Evan stood drinking a glass of water by the kitchen sink. Paul appeared in the kitchen threshold. The bathroom fan and light clicked off around the corner and she gave him a quick kiss on the jaw—as far up as she could reach.

Bit nervous. So handsome in that way she liked best…a recovering punk on the outside. She dumped her bag on the coffee table and turned to smile at Paul as Evan locked up. The day they did that. Evan Hennessey. Pale skin. Dirty Thirty exactly what they planned to get up to with their houseguest. She put a hand on his shoulder. She heard the familiar. She reached around the doorway and eased the dimmer up.

She swallowed. If they were going to invite somebody into their bed to alter the fine print on their wedding vows. Studying his face. He nodded. Margie turned when Evan eased the lights down and she took in the two men in her bedroom. Cara McKenna where Paul got his dark eyes and tan skin. Margie rose from the bed in the candlelit background.

She pushed her flats to the floor and sat on their bed. Evan got his balls together and took a couple steps toward him. Almost without him willing it to. He Off was hotter than hell and he wanted more. Paul leaned in. He just let the high carry him. Evan wanted to taste him and find out if that was off too. Evan glanced at where Paul stood dead center in the room. Evan studied the still life.

Their guest took the cue. He loved what was happening and he wanted her to share it. With Margie by his side. Paul tasted right. He pressed them together.

Cara McKenna parted his lips and angled his jaw. Paul pulled away but kept his face close. He suppressed a moan. Paul took the kiss deeper. Evan opened his eyes a fraction. He felt and heard a tiny laugh escape Evan felt the chemical shift as he turned to face her and became the bigger body. Her voice warmed and brightened the room like a fire.

The compliment heated Evan from the inside out and made his head swim. He lowered his face and kissed her the fierce way they had when they were new to each other and stupid with infatuation. He lost the ability to breathe when Paul came close. One big hand slid up his back.

He stepped away to let Margie take over. He touched her breasts beneath the slippery fabric of her dress. Between kisses Margie muttered. Then this song he knew note for note changed. The room swayed as he fought to adjust to this blurry new reality. He kissed his way down her neck to the tops of her breasts. Evan nodded.

Dirty Thirty - Cara McKenna

Heightening everything hot about it. Margie changed too. He knelt back and she tugged at the hem of his shirt. He shifted to kneel between her open thighs. Evan kissed her. Margie reached down to return the show. He held him in place and thrust. He sensed heated masculine energy altering the atmosphere as Paul took a seat. They lay down and his body knew these memorized movements by heart.

Evan lowered back to the bed He wondered what she could see. Not a dull routine. He adjusted his knees and they got them off together. Fresh fear. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Margie tugged at his jeans. Evan kicking the final leg away and sending them to the floor with a clatter of his heavy belt. He had to settle for the latter. He groaned at the sound and feeling of his buckle releasing. Evan reached down to center his cock then gave her what she liked—slow.

For the merest of seconds Evan thought it was just the two of them. Dirty Thirty with a smile—Margie had a funny little kink about him rubbing against her while he was still wearing his jeans and belt. Her fingers dug into his shoulder blades.

Margie had been right. Arousal gripped him. The thought that they had an audience was intoxicating. He moved his attention to her other breast and she teased him in return. The idea got Evan insanely hot and he pushed back to his knees. He lowered his hips. Cara McKenna hours ago was long gone and his body once again brimmed with sweet impatience.

The touch was hungry and appraising. Her hands slid to his ass. Margie got herself disentangled from her bra as Evan reached for her underwear. He felt another hand. He slipped the hooks free and peeled the cups aside. He mustered self-control. He wanted to feel the friction of her wet skin against his shorts. Lemme see what you two usually do before I turn your fucking world inside out. He moaned right along with her. He braced himself on his elbows and took her with his mouth.

He ached for that tilt in the mattress again. Paul reached for the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. He wanted to savor the burning impatience in his body as long as humanly possible. Evan turned to find him standing.

Evan had done this a thousand times now. Margie muttered. Paul unbuckled his belt. Evan heard a new edge to his voice. Evan fought to refocus his attention on Margie as he peeled her underwear down and off her legs. She grinned and assumed the position. He stole another glance to the side and saw their guest grinning. Evan swallowed. Paul adjusted himself. He tasted Margie but he felt Paul. He turned to face their guest.

She smiled broadly. Paul let them wallow in their flirtation a moment longer before he asserted himself. She made her soft noises—tiny. She stretched and sighed and they stared at each other as always.

Cara McKenna air on his skin as Paul pulled his shorts down. He held her thighs tight as she came. Margie smiled at him. The fantasies in his head were messing with his sense of time and reality. She gave him a couple whaps on the side of the head and he relented. Having Paul in the room with them amplified everything to deafening levels. Dirty ones.

Hungry touches. He lapped up her juices. What he found was curiosity.

He kept his eyes on the floor between their bare feet as he found his breath. He massaged the hard muscle there. I want to remember all of this.

Inviting orders. You thirsty for more? His big fingers stroked up and down. He stepped to Paul. Evan let Paul catch his eyes and hold him in thrall.

Paul reached down and cupped himself. Dirty Thirty Paul smirked. He did want to see it. Cara McKenna promised. With a guy? And you know…bossed around. Rounding out the picture. He made it to kneeling. Evan shivered from that voice. His mouth watered. Evan stroked him in one fist. His cock was thick. He looked up. As he gripped him the skin felt as warm and smooth as his own. His hair was trimmed. Show me how much you love my cock.

He bathed Paul with his tongue. Keep that up. Show me how deep you can take me. He imagined how Paul would sound as he fucked Evan. Take me in. Finally he parted his lips.

You love sucking cock. Evan took the cue. Paul sounded smug. He wanted to spoil him. He imagined it. He pulled back. You want a little more? I will. He freed his mouth again. The thought made his mouth greedy and he took Paul deeper.

I like that. He never came harder than when Margie was inside him. He freed his mouth to say. Every inch. He wanted to reach down and stroke his own cock. Evan took what Paul gave him. Wanted just what Paul described. He stilled his head. Wanted to kiss Margie just after that moment. Suck that cock. He found his rhythm. It was about him serving someone else.

He wanted to be better than good—he wanted to be the best Paul ever had so this evening would be more than just a birthday favor. Evan wanted that too. Instead he got a surprise. His own surely helpless expression was met with a slow. He wallowed in his own muffled grunts and moans.

Evan had to work to keep from smiling at the compliment. The air on his bare ass felt cool.

Just as Evan was melting into the moment. Her hands held his hips. He accepted her eager kiss. He kissed her. She broke away. He made it to his feet. Cara McKenna The exposure and anticipation. As their script dictated. She groaned as he slid inside and her nails raked his arms.

He grunted at the pain and the thrill. He groaned as her hands slid down his sides to his hips. She kneaded him.

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Evan kept his pace even. Show him how good you are. He felt like a piece of meat to the beast in his bed. Fuck her. A chemical high flooded him from the ease of everything— the intoxicating relief that his body was still on board. He let the sting fade to a warm tingle before he dutifully sped up. Evan shut his eyes. Dirty Thirty exposed he felt having a new witness to his kink.

The anticipation had his body on edge and made it hard to answer. Evan did as he was told. He stopped breathing as he waited for the next correction. Evan earned himself another spank before the first had even cooled.

He kept his thrusts slow and steady. Margie now. As tar. Cara McKenna If Evan were going to get punished. He made his thrusts quicker. Before the sensations faded Paul brought his palm down. Another slap and Evan heard himself panting and groaning. But just then it was Margie doing the dominating.

He tried to picture what Paul saw—this filthy invitation. Evan found it tough to imagine this alpha specimen would find his so-called scrawny self attractive. The prey. His silence was met with a hard spank and a reprimand.

Her fingers returned. They were such different breeds of male. More like Paul. Margie reached for the little bottle on the side table. Do you like getting fucked? Evan groaned as she traced his entrance and he angled his hips to give her the best access.

All Evan could do was moan. He met her eyes and nodded. In an instant it intensified a hundred times over as Paul leaned across. More slick fingers. Cara McKenna Margie followed the order. Another snap-snap of the lube bottle. He managed to gasp. She pressed inside. Then came the weight of Paul shifting the bed behind them.

Do it. Paul gave it. Paul slid the digit out. He took a calming breath and thrust. The dirtiness of it made him hot. Evan grunted in time with the thrusts. Evan walked his body back. As he reached a plateau. His brain turned to mush and his voice faded to a raspy groan.

Then he felt pressure. Self-control be damned. He could feel them as surely as he felt the lingering burn in his skin. Evan found his voice.

Evan pounded Margie hard. Her soft hands stroked his shoulders and chest. That thought got him more excited than the fucking or the spanking. Paul pushing in farther.

He took what Paul gave him. Evan pumped Margie deep. He hammered Margie. Fuck my ass. The memories would be even sweeter if he could just keep it all going. As bad as he wanted to come. Evan had a few moments to mourn before another sensation replaced it. Two pairs of hands grazed his body. Evan relented. Trust him. He heard and Did you get nice and clean for me?

The sudden emptiness in his hurting body was the goddamn problem. Evan pressed his sweaty forehead to hers. There was more shifting behind him. Evan remembered how to breathe. He moaned as Paul pushed in. Since you asked nicely. As he drew away. Plastic crinkled. Lemme give you what you want. The bottle snap-snapped.

Chemicals exploded in his bloodstream—excitement and fear and anticipation blending to create a high that flooded Evan from his scalp to his toes and left him lightheaded.

After a couple seconds. Evan jammed his arms beneath Margie and dug his fingers into her back. She kissed his neck and reinforced the familiar. Take that cock. Tight and hot. Here I come. Evan could only groan and clench the bedspread in his fists.